


The Sun in the Morning is Ready to Rise

by Idol_pastimes



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:20:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22770877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idol_pastimes/pseuds/Idol_pastimes
Summary: So the last few weeks have been a little... heavy.  Still didn't explain why he felt like the world was crushing him into the ground with every breath.  And no, it wasn't just the busted ribs.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 11
Kudos: 79





	The Sun in the Morning is Ready to Rise

**Author's Note:**

> A Callum-centric kidnap-aftermath fic, started before the demon-bunnies started to plague my thoughts about the real outcome of this week's episodes. Also, I missed the Carter-Halfway interactions and wanted to see Callum with people outside of his romantic entanglements. So, I made him go for a walk. Sidenote: he didn't make it very far.

This was four out of the last five nights that he’d jerked awake, panting and sweating, clawing at his own throat, face, arms before realising that the night was just as quiet and indifferent as it had been before he’d closed his eyes. Twice it had woken Ben, drawing pained, guilty looks and repeated offers to fetch, carry, cuddle or kiss until Callum had felt so sad for his boyfriend that he’d been the one wrapping Ben in his arms and lying back down until they’d both drifted off into unsettled rest. On the third occasion, Ben had been at his brother’s house for some family do until late and it had been Stuart who’d loomed over him, sending him further back into the pillow and reaching for the nearest solid object to swing.

Callum had been profusely apologetic, but more exhausted from the shock of having his brother’s giant dome hanging directly in his eyeline upon waking, and so was far more pointed than he’d usually have been in telling Stuart in no uncertain terms to leave his room, he was _fine_.

This time, though, he was alone. Flinging his arms over his face, Callum panted into the cool late evening air and wondered why on earth he’d thought going to bed early would be a good plan. He’d been achy, and irritable, and he still couldn’t eat solid foods without having to cut everything up into tiny pieces first, and he’d dropped the milk bottle when he’d leaned down into the fridge and a spike of pain had stuck him right under the ribs and, although it was _probably_ his imagination, he thought he could already smell the milk going off, ruining the carpet.

He sighed, then regretted the pull on his tender chest and the shiver it wrought as the chilly night air wound its way into his lungs, hitting the back of his throat and making him swallow quickly to avoid coughing. _Coughing is bad; coughing is end-of-the-world-I-might-be-dying bad._ Callum had learned that on day one, after having had the breathing tube removed. He’d learned a few new things that day: that Stuart was _way_ more scary when he was quiet, that Rainie was quite sweet and knew all the best soft foods to tempt an invalid with, and that Ben was totally squeamish when it came to having bloods taken. Although, he’d seemed fine when it was his own blood, so maybe it was just the blood of people he-

Callum paused in his rambling thoughts and let his arms flop down to rest on his pillow either side of his head. It was too quiet. That’s what had woken him up. Ben must have been working late and Stu- well, he could be anywhere; it was his and Rainie’s date night. He was just counting himself lucky that they weren’t back here at the flat yet, or else it’d have been a whole different set of noises that would have disturbed him, in more ways than one.

He had to get out of this house for a while. 

He rolled himself slowly to one side and levered himself up to a sitting, then slowly, standing position, leaning heavily against the wall until he caught his breath again. Callum hated this. Hated feeling like he was weak, like he couldn’t do what he normally took for granted. He pulled at the hoodie that was slung over the bedpost and tried to hook it around his shoulders without twisting, shifting or pulling on anything that would object. It took a few minutes to get it situated over his t-shirt, but it would do. A mini-achievement but he’d take it for now. He shifted his gaze to the pair of jeans on the chair and gritted his teeth. _This was not going to be fun_.

When he left the flat twenty-six minutes later he was sweating and tired, but one breath of outside air made him glad of the effort. He’d left a note for Ben telling him he’d be back after a walk and as he pulled the door shut behind him, couldn’t help but smile as he dropped his keys into the pocket of his jogging pants. _I ain’t ever wearing jeans again, no matter how much he likes me in ‘em._ The sight of them crumpled in a ball as he’d dumped them down for the final time had given him a ridiculous sense of victory, even if it had pulled at ribs that did not need the hassle.

A cursory glance across the darkness of the square set Callum to walking before he’d even considered a direction, and he moved slowly but surely towards the lights surrounding the flower beds and the bench, a quiet haven where he could watch people come and go without anyone or anything to interrupt his thoughts. Too many nights where the control of his own mind had been stripped away was wearing him down, he knew, and he just needed a break. Just for a little while.

Lowering himself stiffly onto the cold bench seemed an effort in masochism, but the icy bite of the metal across the backs of his legs seemed to detract from the pain in his… well, everywhere else, if only for a few seconds. Callum leaned back and watched as two blokes wandered out from the Vic, chattering as they parted ways with a brief handshake and a wave, tightening scarves against the winter breeze that was whipping through the marketplace. Tarpaulins and cords flapped and pulled away from the metal struts of the stalls and Patrick and Sheree drifted across the street on their way home, his arm wrapped across her shoulders and the pair singing some old tune, fuelled by rum and happiness. Callum smiled. He’d have missed this. If Ben and Stuart and Jay hadn’t- If Keanu had-

He shook his head and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. _Maybe time alone ain’t what you need after all, Halfway. Too much time to think might be just what you should be trying to avoid._

He shuffled forward again to the end of the bench and pushed up on the metal arm, pausing once more until he steadied, then pondered his next move. He wasn’t ready to go back yet, and if he was honest, he was not looking forward to having to make his way back up those stairs by himself. He may have misjudged just how much work they could be when you weren’t feeling quite up to scratch.

Callum straightened up and turned his head toward the light hanging over the door of the Vic and felt a wry smile pull at his cheeks; he’d go where he’d first felt welcome in the square, where all of _this_ had really started.

It was always a delicate balancing act, trying to edge through the Vic doorway without timing it phenomenally badly and ending up being jarred backwards by someone making an abrupt exit; Shirley had mocked him for it relentlessly. He always managed to touch the door as someone else barged through in the other direction. He’d always put it down to luck, or rather his lack of it, but it made no difference this time whether it was fluke or skill; if someone caught him with the bar door, he’d fall over, he just knew it. So, rather than take the chance, he waited another four minutes until a heavy-set guy pushed his way out and, seeing Callum standing there, looked him up and down and held the door open, gesturing with a tip of the head. ‘Go on, mate. I’ve got it for ya.’

Callum wondered for a split second about how bad he must look if some humongous unit of a man felt he had to hold the door for him like a damsel in distress, then decided to simply take the good fortune while he had it. He smiled softly, muttering a ‘cheers, mate,’ and shuffled forward, wedging a foot against the door to stop it from swinging back and smacking him on his way through.

The warmth of the bar washed over him and he breathed in as deeply as his battered ribs would allow, trying to soak up the familiar sense of comfort and family that he still felt after everything that had happened, after all the water under the bridge. He knew Linda’d been upset with him over Whitney, but Mick had understood from the get-go, and Tina had always been on his side. Even Shirley had just rolled her eyes, but had never changed towards him. Maybe she just wasn’t bothered enough to make any kind of effort to be mean, but Callum always had the sense that she maybe, just maybe, had a bit of a soft spot for Ben, one that he didn’t quite understand, but just got an inkling of whenever he saw them together. There was history there that he wasn’t privy to, and sometimes they loathed each other and other times, they were as thick as thieves. Callum’s brain skidded to a halt again and he turned consciously away from that particular train of thought. Avoidance of any criminal activity made him far more comfortable and he was not in the right place to think about that tonight.

‘Oh, Callum. It’s good to see you up and about; you in for a pint?’

Callum’s gaze was pulled to the placid but friendly face of Tracey as she reached for a glass. They had never really had a heart-to-heart, but the woman was as much a part of the Vic as the fixtures and fittings and he knew that she was a godsend to Mick on those occasions when the family had had enough of living, working and entertaining in the bar each and every night. Which seemed to happen quite frequently of late, especially now that Tina’d started to work more and more at the Albert and Shirley was caught up in- Nope. Not going there again.

‘Naw, thanks Trace, I was just in lookin’ for Mick; he about?’

Tracey placed the glass back on the shelf and lifted a finger for him to wait, turning towards the back of the bar. Callum reached out with a hand and, using the back of the chair as a support, started to lower himself down onto the seat that ran across the wall of the pub, facing out over. He had spent a lot of time recently watching people, trying to pick up cues and tells, both in the ward at the hospital and in the flat, trying to gain a sense of who to trust and how different expressions meant different things on different faces. _He wasn’t gonna be caught out again, he wasn’t gonna-_

‘Halfway! What you doin’ ‘ere, looking like corned beef the day after? Let me look at you, boy; you holding up alright? Trace, darlin’, pull the boy a pint, will ya? You’re staying for a quick one, intcha?’

The barrage of noise and smiles was exactly what Callum had been looking for. He couldn’t help but smile back and he knew that he was going red; Mick didn’t care how loud he was and he loved him for that. Still, didn’t mean he’d wanted everyone in the place to look at his smashed-up face. He could have done without that part.

‘Hey, Mick. Naw, not a pint, thanks.’ He shuffled a little, trying to get comfortable and saw the skin around Mick’s eyes tighten in response. ‘I could murder a whisky, though.’

‘One whisky coming up, then. Be back in a tick.’ Mick sauntered back behind the bar, winking at Callum as he rounded the pillar and flipped a small tumbler up into the air before catching it and tripping the optic of a single malt. He was back at the table before Callum realised that he’d only brought his keys; nothing else. ‘Oh, Mick, I ain’t brought my wallet. I was just going for a walk-’

‘Don’t be soft, you muppet. This one is on the house; we’re celebrating you surviving your first Valentine’s Day as a member of my favourite rainbow community, int we?’

Callum huffed a laugh and looked down, rolling the whisky round and round in the glass. Mick had added one ice cube to the drink, just enough to keep it cool but not enough to dull the effects of a straight shot. ‘Shouldn’t have it really. Not with the painkillers an’ all.’ He looked up and met Mick’s eyes. The landlord had sat himself on the low stool across the table from him and Callum felt a flash of envy that his friend could lean forward and rest on an elbow with no stabbing pain to accompany the movement.

‘S’pose not. M’I gonna ‘ave your fella in ‘ere later wanting to rearrange my teeth for getting you tanked up?’ It was said with a smile, but Callum could tell it was a gentle probe; why was he here, was he alright, how were things with Ben, after…

‘That’s one thing you ain’t got to worry about, Mick. Ben’s off violence for the foreseeable, I reckon. Things got a bit too close for comfort for ‘im, I think.’ Mick’s eyebrows raised but he nodded slowly, clearly understanding the oceans of meaning that Callum was not yet prepared to dive into. He was endlessly grateful that Mick seemed happy to avoid plumbing those depths for now, too. His boyfriend was devastated and furious and guilty and murderous and so, so soft and gentle all at the same time. Mick didn’t know Ben like he did, and never would, so trying to explain him to his friend was a waste of time. ‘Stuart, though; he might be up for a tussle, if he thinks you’re endangering his little brother.’

Mick sat back a little, smiling, acknowledging the shift in mood and going along with it. ‘I’ve had more than enough tussles with that big brute to last me a lifetime, boy. Not gonna happen. So I’ll just be taking this-’ He swiped the glass from Callum’s lax hand and threw the whisky down his own throat before grimacing and smacking the tumbler down on the table with some flair. ‘Aaah! Just what the doctor ordered. For me, not you. Can’t ‘ave you puking up in the middle of the night, can we; don’t imagine that’d be too much fun with those ribs of yours.’

Callum nodded, eyes wrinkling up in good humour and enjoying avoiding any thoughts of the past weeks in the company of his friend, in the warmth of his old home. ‘S’killer, mate. It’s enough to make you want to give up drinking forever.’ 

Mick’s eyes scrunched up again but softened just as quickly, and Callum worried that he’d accidentally tripped on to a sore subject for a moment. The look passed, however, and Mick was ploughing forward without any further pause, so he pushed the thought to one side as one to come back to. Later. When he’d had a good night’s sleep without nightmares or a panic attack.

‘And how are you then, boy? Really? I came to visit the once in hospital but you was out of it, and by the time I could get a spare hour again you was on your way to coming home; Stuart had said just to leave it for a bit until you got your feet back under ya.’

Callum smiled and reached out to pat his friend’s hand before lifting a finger to point at his cheekbone. ‘I mean, I’ll never be a runway model now, mate, but give it a few more weeks and I’ll be back on solid foods, ey?’ His laugh didn’t seem to translate and his rather forced attempt at humour faltered as Mick sat quietly, just waiting. Callum winced internally; he’d forgotten how astute the often brash man could be, how well he could read him. Mick was a dad, after all, and although he would never know what it was like to be raised a Carter, he knew what it was to have the support of one. He was grateful for any of the concern that Mick had shown so far and found himself babbling to hide his immediate sense of foolishness for trying to make a joke of it.

‘I am grateful though, Mick. That you came to see me; Ben never mentioned it, and Stu- well, he hasn’t really been saying much except for orders to take my tablets and vague threats to lock me in my room if I so much as leave his sight without a chaperone.’

Mick winked at him and ran a finger round the rim of the empty tumbler. ‘Well, I can understand that, Halfway. Scared us ‘alf to death you did with this little stunt of yours. And nah, Ben wouldn’t ‘ave known I was there at the hospital; he was spark out too when I ‘ad a look in. Completely zonked by your bedside while Stuart stomped up and down outside in the corridor, scaring the nurses.’

Callum’s eyes widened at this piece of information. He hadn’t really thought about it, before, what Ben and Stuart must have gone through while he was blissfully unaware for four days. He’d had an inkling, of course. No one developed bags under their eyes like Ben’s if they’ve been getting their full eight hours a night in. And no one mother-henned the way Stuart had been if they hadn’t had cause to be concerned. _More than that, Halfway; he was terrified. You can tell just by the way he’s looked at you ever since._

He nodded but kept his eyes lowered, recognising what Mick was saying without having to be beaten over the head with it. ‘Yeah, they’ve been amazing. But-’

Again, he could feel that paternal gaze and so didn’t look up. He’d never known how to avoid sincerity and it tripped him up every time. Ben knew it, Stuart knew it, and, damn it all, Mick knew it too.

‘But what, boy? They driving you mad, that it? That why you’ve escaped?’

The gentle, cajoling tone had him smiling once more and Callum looked up into the knowing eyes of a man who’d come to mean so much to him. The man who’d given him a place to stay, a base to come back to, a support system that he could lean on while he worked to find himself, no questions asked. _And all that after you shot him, too,_ Callum’s brain marvelled. _Funny, you were never anything but obedient to Jonno, and where’s he?_ He shook that thought away before it could take hold. He had too many other things to think about just now; his absent father was a problem for another day, hopefully many years away from now.

‘They’re both just so sad, Mick. So sad and guilty all of the time, and it breaks my heart to see it. And I’m not helping matters, constantly waking them up, shoutin’ and screamin’ every night when they’re already dog-tired and worn out.’

Callum saw Mick’s eyebrows raise and then fall just as quickly, a look of sudden understanding settling with sadness over softened features. Callum hurried to fix it, unable to bear the thought of anyone else feeling miserable over him, over his inability to just _deal_ with things.

‘Aw Mick, I didn’t mean- It ain’t as bad as I’m making out, you know? Just got a lot on my mind at the minute, that’s all; it’ll pass, it did last time-’

‘So, you been abducted, beaten and left for dead before then, ‘ave you, Halfway? Funny, I thought I’da remembered you mentionin’ that if it was true. Not exactly one for keepin’ secrets, are ya, boy? Definitely would’ve heard about that before, I reckon.’

Mick’s pursed lips gave Callum pause as he raised a palm in a defensive gesture, trying to stop the pointed questions before they could pick up any steam. He hadn’t come here for a fight, and he certainly didn’t want anyone else feeling sorry for him, either. He should have known it was a bad idea, a stupid idea to leave the flat, of course Mick would know, he could read him like a book and now he’d made someone else miserable, dragged someone else in to his pathetic problems and-

‘Halfway. Halfway! Listen, just listen to me.’ Mick’s hand wrapped round his own and pressed it gently back to the tabletop between them, keeping a firm hold on his fingers as he made direct eye contact. Callum’s mind reeled with the desperate need to laugh it all off, divert, escape, anything to avoid a heart-to-heart in the middle of the Vic of all places. He couldn’t face this, couldn’t handle the growing worry that maybe this was deeper than just the Keanu thing, maybe it went back further than the last few weeks. 

‘This ain’t the time or the place, son. Alright? You just out of your sick-bed, me with half a pub full of punters and poor Tracy mannin’ the bar all alone-’ Mick cocked a jaunty head-tilt toward the woman as she carried on reading the magazine she’d clearly had tucked under the bar for nights as slow as this one. Callum smiled feebly and squeezed back against Mick’s steadying grip. ‘But you listen here, boy. My Lee, he suffered something awful for years with his own thoughts, you get me? Couldn’t sleep, couldn’t escape himself. And it messed him up. _Messed him up._ And I didn’t see it, Halfway. He didn’t let me see it.’ A self-mocking huff of air escaped Mick’s nose and he raised his eyes to the ceiling for a brief moment, shaking his head. ‘At least, that’s the excuse I had for when he finally admitted it. All the thoughts, the nightmares, the anger and the violence and the rage that he had building up in him for _years_ after he came back from fighting. And I didn’t spot any of it.’

Callum couldn’t take his eyes off his friend, seeing the pain on his face. He knew he should feel guilty, putting Mick through this, forcing him to relive it again, and he started to say so. 

‘I’m sorry, Mick, you don’t have to-’

‘Callum Highway, will you shut your mouth and just listen when I’m talkin’ to ya?’ The rebuke was sharp but the tone was all Mick, and Callum found himself smiling again, unable to stop. ‘What I’m saying is, this is normal, boy. What you’re feelin’, what you’re dealin’ with, you can work on it. _I know, alright?_ ’ The look on his face shook Callum more than it should; Mick was telling him more than he usually allowed. There was a look of personal experience there, the shadowed stare of what it meant to be completely subsumed by your own thoughts, inescapable and, to blokes like them, mortifying in its indignity. But Mick was forging ahead, pushing the words out anyway. Callum loved him for it. ‘But you gotta let people help you, you hear me? Even if you don’t wanna let anybody in, or you think it’ll hurt ‘em; you’ve got people who love you, boy. Now it’s your turn to let them show that, for once, alright?’

He waited until Callum nodded, then Mick patted their joined hands and then reached forward and tapped his cheek with the gentlest of touches. ‘You just sit here for a while and let’s see if I can’t get a couple of tunes on for ya. What’dya fancy, a bit of Wham, is it? Got some Spice Girls on the juke box there, could give it a whirl, if you like.’

Laughing softly, Callum nodded. ‘Whatever you like, Mick. And thanks, yeah?’

Jangling in his pocket for some change, Mick punched in the number for ‘2 Become 1’ and they both grimaced as the song started up, far too loud in the sedate, late-night ambience of the bar. ‘I’ll grab you a lime and soda, that alright?’ The glass was on his table almost before he could blink and Callum looked up once more at his friend’s face, the thanks already on his lips. ‘And you talk to me whenever you need to, alright? About anythin’ you like, or nothin’ important, right? I been learnin’ a little something about getting’ caught up in me own thoughts; it might do us both good to help each other out, you know? And I mean it. Anytime, Halfway.’

Words froze on Callum’s tongue and a sudden rush of sadness-gratitude-love-relief had tears jumping to make his vision swim. He ducked his head and reached out to take a swift chug of his lime and soda. The warm palm on his shoulder showed again Mick’s ability to just _get it_ , and he wasn’t surprised when the hand slipped away and he could hear the landlord’s next words from a distance, asking one of the late-night customers just what excuse he’d made to be able to stay out without ‘catchin’ an earful from the missus’.

He sniffed once, then let his head fall back, slowly, cushioned on the recently upholstered seat rest behind him. It was strange, he’d come in to escape thinking about, well, anything, really, but maybe it was just what he’d needed. He did feel lighter, or at least a little more settled. Callum hummed softly along with the Spice Girls song as it drifted to a close and smiled again at Mick’s choice; he knew he’d catch a little teasing from his friend once he’d decided to come out, but he had no clue that it could be this simple. Just people who knew him, inside and out, knew him and didn’t care about all of the bits of himself that he’d hated and hidden for so long. _Obviously not doing a great job of hiding certain things, there, Halfway_ , his brain was happy to supply, but Callum found himself unmoved by the realisation. If nothing else, coming to Walford had made him stronger, more brave. He could admit that he needed help sometimes, and that although he’d always thought it was a bad thing, that his innate default back to ‘being sincere’ was probably his biggest saving grace at this point. 

Maybe it was time to ask for a little bit of help. To let Ben and Stuart and yeah, even Rainie shoulder the load, if they were offering anyway. It wasn’t like they’d judge him for needing to talk to somebody, would they; between them, their little group hoarded a veritable treasure-trove of awful experiences and deep-seated traumas. And, if it all became too much to put on their shoulders, there was always Mick. Callum smiled to himself again, his eyes closing as his thoughts calmed more than they had in days. _Although that may not be such a great idea, Halfway,_ he chided himself. _If he honestly thinks the Spice Girls are your choice for a late-night sing-song, maybe he’s never known you at all_.

It seemed like seconds later, but the sudden dip in the cushion beside him had Callum’s head snapping forward, then gasping suddenly as his ribs reminded him of their current state of unhappiness. 

‘Whoa, just calm down, babe, you’re alright, you’re alright, yeah?’

Ben’s pale face hovered just inches from his own and Callum couldn’t help but notice the rapidly quashed look of panic in his eyes.

‘Whas wrong, Ben? S’summat the matter?’ His mouth was slowly waking up too and as his thoughts tried to coalesce after his rude awakening, he felt a vague irritation start to rise up as he spotted Mick leaning against the wall beyond Ben, smiling like a doting mother. 

‘Aw, he’s cute when he’s all sleepy, ain’t ‘e?’ The words were clearly meant to be funny, but Callum could read the look on Mick’s face that echoed Ben’s words; he was trying to keep everything as calm and on an even keel as possible. Taking a second to catch his breath and allow the pangs in his chest to settle once more, Callum registered Ben’s palm hovering over his rib-cage, clearly wanting to touch or support, or _rip_ the pain away, if possible. He lifted a hand to cover Ben’s and his boyfriend didn’t need a second hint, grabbing on tight, pulling it to his own cheek and holding it there for a fraction of an instant before letting them both fall, still joined, in to his lap.

‘He’s always cute; why’d’ya think I keep him around?’

The sly grin that Callum missed so much crept just to the edge of Ben’s expression before the worry and the sadness returned, overruling the mischief. ‘And you, what do you think you’re doing, hey? Sneakin’ off so I almost ‘ad a heart attack. Not to mention your psycho brother threatening to string me up if I didn’t bring you home in one piece. Lucky Mick phoned when he did; you’d probably have come home to find him dicing me up and stashin’ me in one of those coffins of his that him and Rainie sleep in.’

Callum shook his head at the images that summoned up, scowling in displeasure at any thought of his brother’s sleeping arrangements. ‘Stop it; he’s just looking out for me. Like I thought Mick was, until he turned in to a giant grass and dropped me right in it.’

A quiet laugh from Mick had Ben turning slightly to give the landlord a grateful nod. ‘Yeah, ta for that, Mick. Seems even though he’s always going on about being a soldier, he can’t follow simple orders like ‘stay in bed’ or ‘don’t leave the flat’.’

Callum tugged on their joined hands and looked up at Mick for back-up. ‘I was fine here, weren’t I Mick? We were just having a chat. I needed to get out of that house for a while, Ben; I couldn’t stop thinking about everything.’ He grinned, feeling his cheeks pull with an almost forgotten tension. _How long had it been since he’d laughed? Time to stop mopin’ about, Halfway!_ ‘A conversation with Mick here, well, turns out it don’t require much thinking.’

Pushing off from the wall, Mick wandered closer and stood at Callum’s other side. ‘Yeah, yeah, very funny, Halfway. Just so you know, I usually charge by the hour for babysittin’. And I don’t want none of that guff about forgettin’ your wallet, neither, Ben.’ He turned to wave a hand at the rest of the bar, and for the first time, Callum realised the place was empty, outside of Tracy hanging the last of the glasses up above the counter. ‘Now, let’s get you up and ’ome, mate; it’s well past your bedtime.’

Callum’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Mick; I didn’t know I was keepin’ you both-’ Sensing the light mood was slipping away, Callum saw Mick leap to maintain it, if only to make sure the night ended on a positive. He knew it and was grateful for it, as Callum hadn’t felt this warm and relaxed in days. Not since his return home and the realisation that he didn’t know how to move on like the doctors were expecting, how to keep his family from seeing his pain and feeling it alongside him, how to just _accept_ everything that had happened and carry on as if his world hadn’t been shaken to its foundation.

‘You ain’t, you muppet. This is clearin’ out time, and Ben ‘ere was just doin’ the gentlemanly thing and came by to ‘elp you back to your ‘umble abode, ain’t that right, Ben? Now, up ya get; this ain’t no doss house.’

As both men leaned in and slid a hand under either of his arms, Callum realised just how long it had been since his last painkiller and he regretted every thought that had ever led him to believe that sitting down on a doughy, partially-sprung seat in a bar and falling asleep would be a good idea. The noise that snaked its way out of his chest at the agonising re-awakening of his multiple dormant injuries had both Ben and Mick freezing in stereo, and he had to pant ‘Keep going! Please!’ to make sure that they didn’t try to lower him back down. He knew he couldn’t handle the initial upward movement again without screaming just a little, and he’d like a little bit of dignity left by evening’s end, thank you very much.

He felt his heart hammering as he tried desperately to hold down the few mouthfuls of lime and soda he’d swallowed earlier, while Ben and Mick deftly manoeuvred around so his left arm was lying around Ben’s shoulders, with most of his weight falling on to his boyfriend’s deceptively solid frame. ‘You gonna be alright getting him over home, Ben? I can ‘ave Trace lock up and give you an ‘and if you need me to.’

Callum could hear the quiet worry in his friend’s voice and he spoke up in an effort to assuage the anxiety that he’d caused _again_. ‘I’m good Mick, I promise. We’ll take it slow, alright. We’ll be fine.’

Mick looked long and hard into Callum’s face before clenching his jaw tightly and stepping away to pull the door open for them, nodding. ‘You call me, boys, if you need anything, alright? Even if it’s just for a chat about nothing, you call me. You hear?’

Ben nodded as they moved forward and Callum clung on tighter to his hand, looped down and over the front of Ben’s chest. ‘We will, Mick. Thanks again, mate. I owe ya one.’

Mick waited until they were over the threshold before following them out and into the street, hugging his crossed arms against the cold night air. ‘You don’t owe me nothin’; Halfway and me ‘ave an understanding, don’t we, boy? We’re family. You don’t hold favours from family.’

Callum ducked his head minutely and smiled, feeling the exhaustion of _too much too much need to sit_ pulling him down, but not quite ready to give in, yet. ‘Yeah, we got an understanding, Mick. Thanks for tonight. And… you know.’

Mick reached out to tap him on the jaw with his fingertips, tilting his head to one side and moving back to the doorway of the pub. ‘Get out of here, you big soft muppet. And you two mind ‘ow you go up those stairs. Don’t want you ending up back in a hospital bed already.’

‘Night, Mick.’

Callum’s goodbye was waved off as the man retreated back inside the bar and they heard the bolts snick into place on the other side. Callum took one last look at the closed door and squeezed Ben’s hand before taking a stilted step forward, fully confident in his boyfriend’s ability to match him pace for pace while holding him upright. Ben had more strength than he’d ever give himself credit for, but Callum had never had cause to doubt it; he wasn’t about to start now. 

The path to the flat had never seemed so long, and his breaths were becoming all the more rapid by the time they reached the door. Callum leaned wearily against the brick while Ben dug around in his pockets, becoming more and more irritated with each passing second. ‘For pity’s sake, don’t tell me I’ve left the keys; this is all we need, ‘aving to ring your brother to charge to the rescue.’

Callum huffed a brief laugh and then reached into his jogging pants’ pocket, just managing to snag the keyring with the tip of a finger without having to bend too much. He dangled the keys in front of Ben’s face, enjoying the raised eyebrow and quirk of the lips just a touch too much for the late hour and clear tiredness wrought across both of their expressions. But he wasn’t feeling weary anymore, Callum realised, just in need of a few hours sleep. It wasn’t a soul-deep _weight_ now; chatting with someone else and leaving some of his worries behind in the Vic had made a dent in that pile of _stuff_ that he was trying to straighten out in his head.

Ben snatched the keys from his hand and fished through them, hunting for the right one. ‘What you looking so happy about, anyway, ay? You’ve got some explainin’ to do when we finally get you back upstairs.’ 

The door popped open and Callum waited as Ben arranged himself back under his arm once more, shuffling sideways into the tight confines of the staircase and tottering up, ever-so-gently moving from one stair to the next, checking with eyes and muted questions at his every hitch of breath and suppressed squeak. 

The trek to the sofa seemed endless and the instant gratitude of being able to sit once more made his head spin in breathless disbelief. A gentle hand trailed down the soft hairs just behind his ear and he smiled.

‘I ain’t seen you this content in weeks, babe; what’s Mick Carter got that I ain’t, ay?’

The sofa shifted as Ben sat down beside him, perched on the edge of the seat and stroking ever-so-slowly, fingertips tracing the line of Callum’s jaw, the shell of his ear, a flat palm pausing to cradle the side of his face. Callum let his head fall towards the support there, moving to press a kiss to the warm skin and then closing his eyes once more. 

‘He just reminded me, is all. Of what I’ve got; what we’ve got. And I wasn’t lying. It was nice to just get away from everything, you know? Just escape Stuart’s questions and nagging and the quietness of this place for a while. I miss seeing people.’

Callum felt the cushions shift as Ben stood for a moment and listened to the familiar sound of him pulling off his jacket and draping it over the back of the armchair. ‘Well, if it’s people you wanted, why didn’t you say so? Lexi’s been pestering me all week about coming to see ya and Lo’s been putting her off with all kinds of excuses. And my mother is desperate to bring you food and magazines and whatever else she can lay her ‘ands on. She’s besotted with you, that woman.’

Cracking his eyes open just to check if the sentiment was a happy one with Ben, Callum grinned at the look of pleasure mixed with pride and a fair smattering of exasperation that his boyfriend had every female in his immediate family at his beck and call after such a short space of time. Callum had no idea how it had happened, but when he’d once said that out loud, Ben had just snorted and said, ‘well it’s no surprise to me, babe.’

He turned his hand palm up and waited for Ben to slot his fingers in between his own. He felt his breathing calm even further as the expected warmth settled into place, thumb rubbing softly in a repetitive motion intended to calm either one or both of them, Callum wasn’t sure. He also knew that it didn’t matter; what made one happy invariably pleased them both, so it wasn’t even worth thinking about. 

His eyes were heavy and he knew he should make a move before he seized up again; at the very least he should take a tablet. Ben would go mad when he realised that he’d missed his last round. He’d lost track of time and completely forgotten to put them in his pocket after his failed battle with his jeans earlier. Callum sighed. _Might as well get it over with…_ ‘Ben-’

‘You… you can talk to me, you know.’ Callum’s brow creased in vague confusion and he opened his eyes once more, fixing his gaze on his boyfriend’s downturned face. Ben was chewing on the thumb nail of his free hand and it made Callum so sad to see that particular response; he only saw it when Ben was feeling low, unworthy, _vulnerable_. He should never be made to feel like that; Callum knew he was unerringly strong. He squeezed his fingers and tugged him closer, until they were sitting side by side, heads tilted towards each other.

‘Hey. Hey, I know that, Ben. I know. I just-’ Callum fished about for the words and settled for enfolding Ben’s smaller hand in both of his as he waited for his point to coalesce in his tired, pained mind. ‘I needed someone outside of all this to remind me of what I needed to focus on. And that it’s okay to let you guys take a little of the flack, for a change.’ He grinned as he saw Ben’s other hand drop away from his mouth, the tiny dig perfectly executed to jolt him out of his insecurity. For now. 

‘Oi; I’ll ‘ave you know that when you were in the hospital, I cooked for your brother not once but _twice_. If that ain’t pulling my weight, I don’t know what is, babe.’

Callum laughed. ‘My hero.’

He loved it when Ben smiled. An honest, open, relaxed smile that shone in his eyes and showed all of the good things that he hid so much of the time. Although he knew that on this occasion, it was only his battered ribs that stopped him from receiving an accompanying prod to the side for that little dig.

‘Made ‘im pasta an’ everything. Just for you.’

He pushed his head forward and touched Ben’s nose with his own, careful not to strain his muscles beyond their delicate capabilities. He stared into the eyes that he adored and repeated himself, with no trace of sarcasm or embarrassment.

‘My hero.’

Ben’s eyes closed and he let out a deep breath before pushing forward and pressing their lips together, firm and warm. 

‘Don’t say that. I ain’t. I couldn’t find you, couldn’t help you, couldn’t-’

Callum smiled again and squeezed Ben’s hand, nudging the side of his nose with his, making Ben’s eyes pop back open. ‘I love you, you know.’

Ben smiled again. ‘Yeah. I don’t know why or how, but I know.’

He pushed forward again and kissed Callum’s lips, then pulled his hands free to place them on either side of Callum’s cheeks as he peppered his nose, eyelids and forehead with featherlight kisses. Letting out a stilted sigh, he sat back and swept a soft hand over Callum’s currently gel-less hair. Callum knew Ben liked it like that; he could run his hands through it and, as he usually only did so when they were both sitting or lying down, it often led to more _interesting_ activities. No such luck tonight, though. As he moved his hand to sweep his fringe back out of his eyes, Callum couldn’t hold in a sharp gasp of discomfort.

‘You alright, babe? You need some painkillers?’

Callum nodded tightly and grimaced. ‘Yeah, please. I might have forgotten to take me last lot and my ribs are on fire.’

The huff and head-shaking only served to amuse Callum, and it helped to take his mind off the throbbing that was building up in his torso. He forced himself to push forward, edging towards the front of the sofa and, after throwing the tablets down his throat and swallowing them down with a gulp of lukewarm water, handed the glass back to Ben and cleared his throat.

‘Couldn’t help an old man to bed, could you, babe? I think I need a few hours of kip before my morning run.’

The worry that had covered his boyfriend’s face melted away in the face of such a concerted effort to be _normal_. Ben moved closer, and ever so gently levered Callum to his feet. Rather than moving away, though, he stopped, wrapping his arms around Callum’s chest, just holding, not applying any pressure, and lay his good ear against Callum’s sternum.

Callum let out a soft laugh and wrapped his arms around Ben’s shoulders, one hand flat against the side of his head. ‘What are you doing? We can cuddle once I’m lying down, babe.’

He felt a brief shudder and Ben’s hand move up and down his spine, just one brief pass before shifting round so he was supporting Callum once more. They began to move towards the bedroom, neither of them speaking. Neither of them needing to.

Callum slept for a straight six hours that night. He woke up disoriented, over-heated and sore.

But he woke up with his face in a beam of sunlight and with his fingers still intertwined with Ben’s.

The world didn’t seem quite so indifferent that day.


End file.
